


God Awful

by sa00harine



Category: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: F/F, F/M, alice is cute, bill loves his daughter so much, but he wants to make bill happy, can you tell that I know nothing about godspell, charlotte is wonky and wholesome as always, finish the fic for a hidden character at the end, he hates everything, if you like godspell don’t read, paul hates it so much, ted works backstage, this production really is shitty, trust me - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 00:38:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17735696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sa00harine/pseuds/sa00harine
Summary: The shitty production of Godspell that Paul had to see- starring Bill and Alice as the ones who cajoled him into coming with them to see it, Emma as the pretty girl sitting in front of them, and Ted as the beleaguered backstage helper in need of community service hours.





	God Awful

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I'm on a tgwdlm kick so here this is! I know nothing about Godspell and wasn't willing to research it... so here's my attempt! Enjoy!

The door opens behind him, making way for Bill to enter with three drinks from Beanie’s. Bill smiles as he sits down, placing his caramel frappé on the coaster on the surface of his desk. He takes a short sip and then passes the holder to Paul.

Paul recognizes the small black coffee in it as his and takes it.

“Thanks, Bill.” He says. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Departing from his drink, Bill smiles and wipes the residue of whipped cream from his upper lip. “I was there and I wanted to save you the walking. How’s your morning, Paul?”

He’s about to answer when Charlotte yelps. She’d taken a chug of her hot chocolate and apparently taken it too soon. Paul turns his head and sees her frozen with wide eyes and a gaping mouth.

Bill laughs. “It’s hot.”

“I know that now,” Charlotte replies with a sheepish look about her.

They dissolve into quiet, all focused on work and their computer screens, until-

“Hey Paul,” Bill begins.

Paul swivels around in his chair until he’s facing Bill. The man, after only about five minutes, had drained his entire drink. Now Paul wasn’t only talking to Bill, but a sugar-rushed, caffeinated, Bill.

“Alice and I are seeing a local production of Godspell tonight- you know how she loves musicals, and we were going to invite her mother,” his voice drops into something subdued and sullen. Paul tenses, knowing how Bill got down in the dumps about his relationship and Alice’s with her mother. But before he can offer his comfort, Bill continues. “But she’s busy…”

Oh god, no. He can feel it, Bill’s inviting him. Bill’s inviting him to see a musical.

“So will you join us?”

Paul stares a bit to the side of Bill’s head, evading the pleading stare he’s definitely got on.

“Alice would love to see you! She thinks you’re really cool-”

“Ok.”

He watches as Bill’s face glows. As long as his friend was happy, Paul supposes he’d endure the hour and a half of offbeat singing and dancing.

Although, he doubted Alice had asked him to come. He’d just driven her home last week and she hadn’t seemed too thrilled to not be getting a ride from her girlfriend and Bill’s bane- Deb. Though, the girl always made efforts to be unassumingly kind to Paul. He was thankful for that.

He resumes work, or staring blankly at his screen while he mentally builds himself up for the musical he was going to see tonight.

The theater was nice, he’d have to admit. And it was miraculously filled with way more people than Paul expected.

He reveled in the chatter of Bill and Alice, who’d calmed down from screlting showtunes on the drive here. They’d offered to drive him and he’d agreed, welcoming the opportunity to sit in the backseat and stare mindlessly out the window.

“Do you like musicals, Paul?” Alice asks. She’s expectant, leaning towards him- since he’d somehow found himself sitting between them- and awaiting his answer.

Paul sighs. “No,” and then sees the confusion on her face. “But I like to hang out with my friend!” He gestures to Bill. “And his wicked cool daughter!” His voice gets all high and nervous at the end, but at least Alice’s giggling reassures him that he’d said the right thing.

Bill pats him on the back and then he feels like it’ll all be okay.

The lights dim. The stage curtains open, and a puberty-slaughtered voice begins to speak. Paul zones out and enjoys the scapes of his mind until a loud yell breaks him from his spell.

There’s two men onstage, loudly exchanging dialogue. He’s actually intrigued for a moment and sits up in his seat until one goes silent. His eyes bug out of his head and he runs a hand through his slicked back hair.

“. . . line. .” he utters.

Paul snorts, jumping at how loud it was. Everyone had heard it. The girl in front of him even turns around and gives an even louder shh!

After another second, he’s gained back his character and delivered his line. The scene continues until it unwraps into a song. A motley group stumbles onto the stage, wearing cheap costumes and singing.

Intermission arrives, and Paul internally praises himself for making it this far. Bill and Alice don’t hesitate to launch themselves into animated commentary. Paul considers throwing in his own two cents, but withholds his own critiques as to not bring down Alice and Bill.

In front of him, he catches the girl’s eye. She’s got her blonde hair tossed up into a bun and is clad in a dress shirt rather than a dress like her colleagues. She’s his age.

He’d quite like to talk to her, but is kept from doing so by the two people practically across his lap and the girl’s friends discussing the show with her.

The best part about her is how blatantly disinterested she looks in the talks of Godspell.

The lights dim again, this time they seem to take much longer than before. And an ensemble of people have already entered the stage. Paul feels the unpleasant embarrassment that he gets whenever one of them over-dramatically speaks or bursts out in song.

Alice and Bill cheer and applause, and he politely mimics the pleasantries.

The musical continues, and the plot dumbfounds Paul as well as the music. Who had the idea to work tap dancing and ballads into standalone stories?

He loved books, he’d been an avid reader as a kid. But since the world had insisted on sprinkling showy glamor into every perfectly mundane story- making it so much more awkward,- he’d avoided every theater in town. And avoided the spell-check on his phone that corrected it to ‘theatre.’

Somebody on the stage slips and falls, bringing the show to a screeching halt and the cast to puzzled agony. The bumpiness of the show after the accident does it for Paul. He taps Bill on the shoulder until he breaks away from the show.

“Got a call from the boss,” he whispers before waddling through the row of people. He hates how the back of his legs bump against their knees.

If musicals are seen so much, can’t they at least increase the space between the seats?

Eventually, he reaches the exit. He enters the lobby and leans against the door. As he reaches for his phone, loud footsteps enter from what he presumes is the stagedoor. Out stomps Ted, wearing a black shirt and black skinny jeans. The same ones from their shared years in college. Paul withholds a laugh. Ted straightens up, consciously covering the microphone attached to his headset.

“Paul?” He questions obnoxiously. “You hate musicals.”

Paul shrugs and removes his hand from his pocket. He takes a seat on the couch. It’s oddly comfortable and he finds himself leaning into it. Ted flops unceremoniously down beside him.

“What are you doing here?” He asks.

A grunt comes from Ted. “Charlotte wants me to start working for the community. She said she talked to some bitch from Greenpeace and it changed her perspective. I don’t know how this helps our environment- in fact I think this makes it worse, but it makes her happy and with Sam being a shitty husband I figured I might as well. She’s in the audience too.”

Paul’s surprised. Besides the fact that one party was cheating, he thought Ted and Charlotte were good for each other. Fuck Sam.

“That’s nice of you,” Paul says.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t change the fact that I FUCKING HATE IT!” Ted shouts.

Paul slaps a hand over his mouth, conscious enough to know that somebody might hear them.

The slimy texture of Ted’s tongue revokes his hand and Paul glares at him.

“They're so noisy and unthankful,” Ted sighs. “They always tell me to get out of the way when I wasn’t even in the way! Oh, and don't even get me started on the diva director.”

Despite his apparent contempt, Ted's hand never uncovered his mic.

Silence ensures until Paul speaks up.

“I’m here with Bill and Alice.”

“Don't care-” A trumpet blares. “- The finale is starting. Go away!” Ted leaps off of the couch and runs back through the door.

Paul takes the cue and finds his way back to his seat to the singing of the performers.

By the time he’s seated, they’ve begun their bows. He couldn’t be happier at the implied ending of the event. Paul smiles at the bright spotlights and cheers along.

Bill quirks a brow. “You don’t even know what happened, Paul.”

“I know that it was a hell of a show!” He replies.

He notices Alice’s arm nudge his. “I know right,” She yells over the applause. “I thought it was funny!”

As soon as the curtain closes, Paul stands, ready to run to the car and fall asleep in the backseat and then stumble into his apartment and watch a sitcom. Sitcoms weren’t terrible like musicals- they were masterpieces.

But a man has emerged to give the director’s statement. He knew that terminology from Alice.

The director was noteworthy. He wore a grey turtleneck and a brown blazer. His grey hair was messy enough that a few of the cast members audibly snickered behind his back. The director turns around and hisses at them. Then looks out at the audience.

“I’m Henry Hidgens. I was asked to direct this show. I took the offer and I regretted it immensely after seeing their auditions, which included only disney songs. But they surprised me! This is our last show, thank god, right?” He stops to laugh at himself. Then looks at the audience until they courtesy-laugh in response.

Then he concludes. “Great job everyone, thank you for coming!” His voice was booming thunder and Paul heard it over the immediate chatter of the audience. Director Hidgens was screaming- actually screaming once he left the stage.

Well, at least someone agreed with him about the performance.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to @ me @poetromantics on tumblr! I would love to talk about tgwdlm because I'm obsessed and only one of my friends has watched it lmaoo


End file.
